The Heart Wants What the Heart Needs
by ThirteenXSeventeenXNineteen
Summary: No matter how hard you try, you can never deny the heart what it needs. Rated T just in case
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm new to FanFiction, so it's my first story, but don't hold back. Constructive criticism is wholeheartedly welcomed. This is also my first attempt at second person, so if it's bad, let me know.**

**On a different note, I love Pretty Little Liars and Haleb (but not as much as Tencer/Spoby/Soby/whatever you'd like to call them) and I think it sucks that the writers made Caleb have such a HUGE role in Hanna's life, only for him to royally screw up and leave. But at least Lucas is bringing him back. I can only hope she forgives him and then finds out that Mona tore up the letter and intercepted his call. If that happens, I hope she slaps her like she did to Jenna. Anyway… enough of my rambling, on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I only own the notebook and computer this is written in/on and the pen and keyboard it was written with.**

You look in the mirror once you wake up, a habit of yours. Your blue eyes are lifeless, puffy, and red-rimmed and your hair is a rats-nest. But it's nothing an hour in the bathroom can't fix. And to your relief it does. Not as well as you had hoped it would, but it was enough to fool people. You drag the brush through your hair, fixing it. You wash your face until it's almost red and put on enough make-up to hide the fact that you've been crying. A lot.

When you emerge, you're a new woman, because that's what you are, a new, broken women. On the outside, though, you look fine. To almost everyone, you look fine. And as hard as you try, you can't fool everyone. No matter how badly you want to, you can't.

But it's only a mask until you can get into the confines of your room and cry yourself to sleep again. And then to repeat the whole process in the morning. And you absolutely _hate_ it. You want to get over it, but you can't. It hurts and _so_ many things remind you of the whole thing. Especially seeing Jenna Cava- _Marshall _(you won't insult Spencer and Toby by referring to her as a Cavanaugh) strut around like she had not a problem in the world. You just want to slap her again, but after the first time, when she seems to sense your presence, her smugness goes down three notches.

Mona, you supposed best friend, isn't worried. She thinks you'll recover soon. Your mom's worried about you, though. So are Emily, Aria, and Spencer. Lucas, too, is worried, even though you'd been so absolutely horrible to him. Hell, even _you're_ worried about you. And though you don't know it, _he's_ worried about you.

When you get to school, the girls are nowhere in sight, since they probably figured you'd take another mental health day, which you strongly considered, deciding to come to school when your mom told you to. But you're glad. Other than your mom, they're the only ones who can see past the mask you've created for their sake, the one created of under the pretense of _being fine_. And you know if they mention him or look at you with sympathy one more time, you'd break. Badly.

You catch up with Mona, who you haven't really spoken to since she tried to give you a pity party at lunch with the other four, who, thankfully, knew that was the last thing you wanted. Again you question her about the letter _he _allegedly gave you. With a faraway look in her eyes, and completely avoiding your dull eyes, she denies it. That's when you know she's lying. You question her relentlessly until, finally, she sighs and cracks.

She tells you everything. "He came by the booth because he wanted to give you a letter," she says, "But since you were hiding, he gave it to me and told me to give it to you. But, being the friend I am, I read it first, to, you know, make sure it wouldn't hurt you more."

"What did it say?" You ask, trying to keep your cool.

She nonchalantly shrugged. "Some crap about leaving and that you should call him. Oh, and that he loves you."

At first you're angry. She was supposed to be your best friend. But then again, you should have realized she was lying. Then you're angry at yourself. When you realize why, you feel horrible.

He probably poured his heart out in that letter (probably, since you never _really_ got to read it). You could've, _should've_, talked to him. Tell him you've forgiven him. You know you have, you've just never admitted it out loud. You should've told him you feel the same. You inwardly groan. Now he thinks you read the letter and don't feel the same. You could've given him a reason to stay, not a reason to leave faster than he planned, if he planned to leave at all before this whole fiasco.

"And you didn't tell me because..?"

"Hans, you know how upset you'd be if he left after he told you that. Oh, and while I'm 'confessing,' he called but I told him to leave you alone." You don't respond, just walk away, with her calling after you. But you want her to know what it feels like to be ignored, like Caleb had probably felt. And you feel that familiar burn when you think his name.

You know what you have to do, but you wait until after school to do so. When the bell finally, _finally_, rings, you rush out, rush into your car, and rush home. You go as fast as legally possible, for a ticket would only cause _more_ problems, and you have enough of those.

You lock yourself in your room, completely ignoring your mom's attempts to ask about how your day was and how you are, and grip your phone so tightly your knuckles are white. You're at battle with yourself after you type the all-too-familiar number. You're trying to talk yourself out of hitting the 'call' button as much as you are trying to talk yourself in.

You're Hanna Marin, and you're fabulous, but not without him. Never without him. And you hate to admit it, even to yourself, but you can't deny it anymore. You need him more than you're willing to ever tell him. With that thought, you hit the little green phone, your mind screaming 'no' and your heart screaming 'yes' in triumph, and put it up to your ear.

And you wait. It takes three rings for him to answer. "Hello?" Comes his groggy, all-too-familiar voice. He sounds like he just woke up, but at the moment you just don't care. What you two need to talk about is far more important than sleep, at least you think so. And you hope to God and back he does too.

Drawing in a breath, you prepare yourself. This is the make it or break it point. You speak, just one sentence, but you know it will get his attention. "We need to talk."

**A/N: Eh, it could've been better. Oh well. I just realized that with that one line, 'past the mask' that it rhymed…... Ignore me. My mom and some of my friends think I'm ADHD, which I quite possibly am. Anyway (I say that a lot, don't I?) I might make another chapter for this, but I'm not sure yet.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I got an idea for this last night. I was thinking what POV to do the story in next. I thought of this one being Mona, Lucas, or Caleb, but then I decided to do something completely different and make it Ms. Marin's. I have no idea how well it'll work out, but it's worth a shot. It's going to go back a little bit, but not too much. Oh, and if anything seems a little weird, I'm being forced to eat tomato, so blame it on that.**

**Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Pretty Little Liars.**

She's your daughter, and you want to help her (you know what heartbreak feels like, you felt it when her dad left the two of you for a different family), but you can't. You can try, but you can't. She has to help you help her. She won't, so you won't.

You give her 'mental health days,' hoping she get over it, whatever _it_ is. You wonder if it has something to do with the letter. Had she read it and not felt the same? No. She wouldn't be so broken up over this if she didn't. Had he not given it to her and just left? It was possible, barely, but it was. It would definitely explain the 'Bastardville' remark she made a few days ago, or when she had locked herself in the bathroom to cry. And you couldn't stand the sound of her crying, the fact that she wouldn't let you comfort her. But he had seemed so determined, so _desperate_, to give it to her. He wouldn't have left without trying. So you were back at square one.

But that wasn't the biggest problem. The biggest problem was that you didn't know what Caleb had even _done_ for them to break up so suddenly. One morning, before you left for work, they were getting along great. But by the time you got home, his stuff was gone and she hated him. It didn't make sense. It _still_ didn't make sense. To you, though, it didn't exactly _matter_ what he did. If, without Hanna forgiving him, he showed his face around your house again, you'd… you'd… do nothing. You know it'd hurt her more if you hurt him, no matter how much you, and many others, think he deserves it.

Hanna had avoided the question, like you thought she would, making a statement and not saying anything else, when you asked about it. She had brushed you off when you had tried to comfort her, in a none direct way. When Mona was talking about how she was 'a terrible bestie,' as she had put it, and in her own, insensitive-like way, said she shouldn't have turned the other cheek when Hanna had started dating Caleb, Hanna had denied she was hurt. But you knew otherwise. You exchanged a look with Mona. And Mona obviously did too, but, in what seemed like trying to redeem herself from her self-proclaimed 'bad bestie' status, she didn't push.

When it gets to the point where she won't get out of bed and _try_, unsuccessfully so, to convince everyone she's _fine_, then you have to step in, in a way you don't want to. When she stumbles downstairs one morning, hair a mess and eyes red, she grabs a piece of fruit and almost makes a beeline for her room, you take your chance. You have to give a push in the right direction, in the direction of starting to heal. Kind of like when a mother bird pushes her baby birds out of the nest, hoping they'll learn to fly, hoping they won't fall to their death. You hope Hanna will learn to fly. Metaphorically, of course.

You tell her she has to go to school. You can tell by the look on her face that she doesn't like it, but she can tell by the look on _your_ face that you're not going to budge, so she doesn't argue with you. You don't want to argue with her. You don't like to see her upset, and if making her go to school is the way to snap her out of it, then so be it, she doesn't have to like it. She might thank you later. Now you're kidding yourself.

You were prepared for this day. You asked your boss if you could leave early. They let you, and you're home before Hanna is. Ten minutes after school let out sees you leaning slightly over the kitchen counter, swirling a glass of wine around, taking a sip every once in a while. You hear her car pull up, hear her footsteps, and hear her unlock the door.

When she rushes past the kitchen, up to her room, you notice a she's deep in thought, with a look of determination on her face. "Hanna?" You call, hoping she'll come talk to you, although you know it's not likely. You do the only rational, or what you think is rational, thing at the moment. You follow her.

You're silent as you walk up the steps. You don't exactly want her to know you eavesdropping, even if it's for a good cause. Stopping outside her room, you can hear her mumbling, arguing, with herself. Oh no, you think, not only has he hurt her, he's made her crazy. The mumbling dies down. Thankfully. At least therapy won't be necessary.

Fifteen minutes later, and you're ready to knock on the door. You don't care if it's muttering, you want some sign, any sign, she hasn't hurt herself. You start to freak yourself out before you, barely, hear a gruff voice say, "Hello?" Or, at least, what you think is hello.

You hear her take a deep breath before saying, "We need to talk." With that statement, you walk away from her door, back to the kitchen, back to your abandoned wine. You know who's on the other line. You'd have to be pretty stupid not to. You smile to yourself. _This_ is what you've been waiting for. You've wanted them to talk it out. And, by the sounds of it, they _finally_ are. Finally, you can have your baby girl back. Finally, your baby girl can have closure.

Or so you hope. Because if, after this phone call, she becomes worse than she is now, you will _personally_ hunt him down and make him regret it. Either way, though, you won't have any more worries about _Caleb_ hurting her. At least there's that. Now if only you could do that about the rest of the world…

**A/N: OK, I personally have absolutely, positively **_**no**_** idea where that weird bird analogy came from (Stupid tomatoes!). But, oddly enough, I think it works. Weird. Steering away from talk of bird analogies and tomatoes (ewww), I don't know whose POV the next chapter will be in. Either Mona's or Lucas's, because Caleb's is going to be last (or a chapter in –A's POV will be last). So who should be next? Mona or Lucas? And who should be last? Caleb or –A? Either way, I'm going to make a chapter in their POV, I just don't know what order to put them in.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: It took a little while, as I was working on another story (still am) but here's chapter 3. This is going to be Mona's POV. I don't really like her, for obvious reasons, and other reasons that might not be as obvious, but I can't say them without giving away a really big secret in the show, and I'm probably starting to give it away, so I'm going to shut up (if you read that really fast, you'll see how I thought it), so it might not be as good as I want it to be. Next is going to be Lucas's POV, then Caleb's, and finally A's.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. At all… **

It was the right things to do. At least you thin- _No_. He hurt her, and you were just trying to protect her, whether or not he tried to apologize. But you still wonder if it was the right thing to do, looking at Hanna. No. Stop. No guilt. It's not your fault (keep telling yourself that). It's Caleb's. All Caleb's.

You read the letter, and you know how he felt. And you wonder how he had hurt her. You wonder if she felt the same. No, you _know_ she does. She wouldn't be so upset if she didn't. She going to get over it, you tell yourself. You just know.

You're a bad bestie. You should've pushed more on the fact that Caleb was bad. But you didn't. You _knew_ he'd eventually hurt Hanna. But you sat on the sidelines and watched as Hanna fell more and more for Caleb, who had no intention to catch her. OK, you admit that was an exaggeration. He did feel the same. But then he screwed up and now it's _bye, bye_ Sketchy.

The letter, the one that's probably in a ton of pieces at the bottom of the Dump, covered in red stuff you still would not be able to identify, never got to Hanna, since she ran and hid when you told her, "Sketchy at twelve o'clock," and you've made sure it never will. You also made sure she'd never know what was on it. You almost panicked when she asked you about it. You couldn't meet her eyes.

And then Sketchy called. But, luckily, you were there to answer it and tell him off. You told him to leave Hanna alone, that she got the letter, and that she _didn't_ want to talk to him, although that's far from the truth. But lying to Sketchy was easy.

Hanna never would've known, had Hermie not heard you talking to him. And Hermie was going on and on about how you weren't being a good friend to Hanna, not telling her about Caleb. You won't admit it to him, but, deep down, you know he's right. To tell Hermie he was right would require talking to him, and that something you will _not_ do.

The minute he confronted you about it, you knew you had to shut Hermie up. So you played on his weakness. You told him if he kept his trap _shut_ (not in those exact words, but still), you'd get rid of the Hermie nickname, and the whole joke. You also tell him if Hanna never knew about Sketchy, his letter and his call, he had a chance. He could be her shoulder to cry on, and he could get boyfriend points. You don't let him see it, but you roll your eyes at the ridiculous thought.

You had walked away then, and the very next day he wasn't in school. And you told everyone you could it was because he was having surgery to get rid of his little _problem_. You had to keep the Hermie joke going. You knew he wasn't going to keep it a secret, that's he'd try to do something he probably thought would be _heroic_. He didn't keep his side of the deal, and you weren't about to keep yours.

But you have your own weaknesses (Hermie's being doing anything to make Hanna happy). Like seeing your BFF broken, every day you came to school. She insists she is fine, but you know otherwise. You can tell by her eyes. Lifeless. Absolutely lifeless.

Almost three days since Hermie left (the whole school thinks he's in recovery), Hanna asks you again. It's hard to look her in the dull eyes and lie, so you look _everywhere_ else. But that tells her something is wrong. So she questions you again. And again and again and again…

You've spent almost three years trying to become like Alison, to _become_ Alison. To gain the popularity, the looks, and the attention she had. You could change your look, your attitude, but you never could get Alison's flawless lying skills. Maybe if you did you wouldn't be spilling your guts about everything right now.

As you're talking, revealing everything, you watch Hanna's face. She goes from being angry, angry at _you_, to looking like she'd eaten something horrible. When you finish, she takes off, ignoring your calls of "Hanna? Hanna!" You know this isn't good.

You _knew_ telling her was a bad idea, but you just _can't_ lie to her. You two have been through a lot. You wish you did lie, though. At least to her. Because, if you did, you wouldn't be lying to everyone else about why Hanna was ignoring you.

You've sent her almost a million texts. No answer. You called her a dozen times. Still no answer (all you got was the annoying 'Line busy' buzz). You even drove by her house twice, like some freaky stalker. Her car was there, as was her mom's. You don't go in (knocking is for people who _don't_ practically live there), afraid she'll kick you out and make a big scene.

So you wait outside in the shadows for a while, hoping she'll talk to you. Eventually, you get tired of waiting and almost get out of your car when Hermie's pulls up. And, but _of course_, Sketchy comes out.

You're ready to go over and tell him to leave, before Hanna sees him, but she already has. She looks like she was expecting him. She runs out. That was when Hermie decided to peel out. You get back in your car and leave to.

When you get far enough away that you don't have to see Hanna and Sketchy make up, you laugh. Hard. The look on Hermie's face was just priceless.

It's obvious he's still in love with Hanna. But he was stupid enough to bring back his competition. Ha, like it was a contest. She loved Caleb, not Hermie. If he had taken you up on your deal, he could be with Hanna at the moment. Oh look. You're lying to yourself now.

You can lie to Hermie easily. You knew there was no _way_ Hanna would even consider Hermie. You just told him that to shut him up. And that worked so well.

It looks like Hermie thought if he did something nice, Hanna would like him. It looks like Hermie thought Hanna would yell and scream and hit Sketchy and come running to him. Poor, delusional Hermie.

If only he had listened to you. If only Hanna had too…

**A/N: This was actually kinda fun to write, considering she seems really mean. I think it was a little OOC in the beginnning, but I got it back in character towards the end. Three more chapters to go!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: It's been awhile. Not too long, but it's been awhile. I've been busy with school and working on my other story _On the Way Down_. I also had an extremely bad case of writers' block for this story. But I got an idea... obviously...**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own it. I thought I had said it enough for it to be assumed.**

**P.S. If it wasn't obvious, this is Lucas's POV.**

Of _all_ the things you could've done, you _had _to go and get Caleb. You could've done what Mona had suggested, but that would've made you as bad as her. Like her. And you didn't want that.

If Hanna had found out, it would have made your already screwed up relationship even worse. You didn't know where you stood with her. Friends, enemies, the ever-so-girlish term _frenemies_? Or did she just think of you as the annoying geek who wouldn't leave her alone?

You could admit that you didn't really mind Caleb. He seemed like he could be nice, when he wanted to be, you guess. You didn't bother trying to get to know him. You knew you would hate him, just because he had, _has_, Hanna's attention, her _affection_.

So the decision to pick him up was difficult, almost impossible, to make. But you made it and are currently driving away as fast as you can from Hanna's house, where you dropped _him_ off. As you park your car on the side of the road, you think things over.

You're happy you didn't listen to Mona. You _knew_ she was lying. If Hanna hadn't returned your feeling before, why would she now? But, still, a part of you still wonders about the _what ifs_. What if you _had _tried to talk to Hanna now? What if you helped her through this whole Caleb thing? What if, after a while of you glued to her side, she _did_ return the feelings?

But then you realize you can't kid yourself into _anything_. Especially when the pessimistic side of you throws in the other what ifs. What if Hanna found out you _knew_ and didn't tell her? What if she hated you, even more than she more than likely does now? You sigh. Sitting here just wasn't helping. You pull back onto the road, hoping the wind from your open window will clear your head. And, _of course_, it didn't. You had a feeling it wouldn't.

It was too big of a risk. You could handle ignoring Hanna, but you couldn't handle her hating you. Maybe bringing Caleb back might make her try harder to talk to you. _Maybe_, your now overly optimistic brain thinks, _maybe she'll not want to even see Caleb. Maybe she'll never want to see him again. Maybe she'll chose you..._

And then the pessimistic side returns when you stop at a red light. You could hope and dream and want and just _wish_ it would happen, but she will _never_ think of you as more than a friend. And you're trying just so freaking _hard_ to accept that. But you can't. You now it's true, but you just...can't.

It's not healthy. Holding on to a relationship that never actually _existed_. You really want to go up to Hanna and just say, "_Thanks for contributing to my therapy bills._" But it isn't her fault, so you won't say it. It isn't her fault you'll eventually be spending three thousand dollars in therapy just to let go.

You wonder why, of all people, it had to be _Hanna_ you had to fall hopelessly in love with. At least, you think it's love. Great. Now your emotions are so jumbled up that you'll be spending another thousand on working through them with some stranger who probably doesn't even _care, _who will probably just think of another nutcase they have to treat. It's a good thing you do well in school. You're gonna need a high-paying job. Badly.

Right now, Hanna and Caleb are either making up or Hanna is screaming at him. The 'or' wasn't really necessary. You know they're making up. She was devastated when he left, for whatever reason he did.

That was one thing you didn't understand. You thought you did, but you're not sure. You don't understand why Caleb would leave, hurting Hanna in the process. But, at the same time, you do. He left because he thought that was what Hanna wanted, even though it was obvious (to you) that she didn't.

You never asked him. He didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to piss of. You were afraid that if you did, he reach over, slam your head into something, effectively knocking you out, and then throw your unconscious body out of the car, driving back to Rosewood by himself. But, you know, at least it wasn't a _paranoid_ way to think (and there goes even _more_ money. Hopefully you'll be a well paid doctor).

The light still red, you think of the night of the dance, the worst night of your life. You thought that Hanna was _finally_ returning your feelings. But then, as she was leaving, she turned down the offer for a ride, and you realize she would always be turning you down. It may be hard trying to get rid of any feeling you have for her, but it was hard for her to try to have any romantic feelings for you.

The more you think about it, you realize being mad at Hanna was kind of stupid. She just danced with you. It wasn't as if _dancing_ meant _going out_ or _I like you_. Maybe, after the love fest was over, you'll go and apologize. And, maybe, you can go back to being friends. If friends were all you were going to get, you'd take it, no matter how much therapy you were going to need.

And, with that, you drive home, wording and rewording you apology and just hoping she'd accept it.

**A/N: That took a lot longer than I thought it would. Happy Mother's Day by the way. The next chapter, Caleb's POV, will explain **_**a lot**_**more. But that chapter may be take a while to get up. I have an algebra practice final on Monday (it's required) and then I have the actual one on the 18th, so I have a ton of studying to do. I also have a final on the 19th, 20th, 21st, and I'm pretty sure there's one on the 22nd and I have no clue what class they're in. I love getting out of school, but I absolutely **_**hate**_** finals.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I just realized that I don't have to wait until after exams to post this. I already had it typed up! This story was originally going to be a two-shot, but then I got the idea for four others chapters and here we are! This should explain things that may or may not have been confusing in the last chapters. If not, oh well. If you have any questions just ask them and I can answer them in the next chapter, A's P.O.V., and the last chapter.**

Screw all of this. Screw the bus. Screw the old fat lady talking your ear off. Screw the stupid little boy behind you, who, if he doesn't _stop_ kicking the back of seat, is going to know what it feels like to fly, even if it's only for a second. And screw that _godforsaken_ baby for its continuous crying.

When the bus _finally _stops, somewhere in West Virginia (you really weren't paying attention to the signs. You were more focused on how you could kill everyone on the bus and make it look like an accident), you're one of the first people off the bus. You're a state away from Pennsylvania, away from Rosewood, away from _Hanna_. Hanna, the only reason you're on this stupid trip, this stupid bus, following a stupid hunch.

Twenty-seven minutes later, and you're still nowhere near leaving. Thirty-three minutes and people start complaining. Fifty minutes later and everyone is told the bus has broken down. Fifty-eight minutes later, and some car pulls up next to you and some brown-haired, brown-eyed, awkward looking guy gets out.

You recognize him. He was, _is_, in love with Hanna. What he was doing there, you had no idea. And an even better question: what was his _name_? Leo… Leon… Leroy? No. Before you can think it over anymore he, without warning, orders, "Get in." And you do. It beats riding that bus. And if it's a trap, you can beat _him_ to a pulp. And you won't worry about making _that_ an accident.

It's a silent car ride until you cross into Pennsylvania. You're still trying to figure out his name. Lewis? No, no. Lou, Luke? _Almost_. Lucas... Lucas? That's a stupid name, but kinda fitting. So you decide on Lucas. Still looking out the window at the fast-passing trees, you test it and ask, "Why are you doing this, Lucas?"

When he doesn't correct the name or glare at you in annoyance, you know you were right, or he just didn't care, _or_ he was scared of you. "Because you make her happy. Even if it's not with me, Hanna deserves to be happy." And it's true. You know it is. She does, especially with the way the last few months have been.

It's a very long, boring, _silent _car ride. Without meaning to, you fall asleep, only to wake up to the annoying buzzing of your phone. You should've turned it off, but you still have a tiny shred of hope that Hanna will call you. Still half asleep, you look at the number. It's hers. That sliver of hope has turned into disbelief, curiosity, and slight dread, not knowing if she'd let you explain or yell at you more. Now, more awake, you flip it open. "Hello?"

You hear an almost silent intake of breath and then, "We need to talk."

"We do," you agree. "But not over the phone." Lucas pulls to a stop, and you look at him, thinking that the fact that she called you was getting under his skin. He nods his head behind you, and you realize where you are. Grabbing your backpack, you get out and he drives off, obviously not wanting to see anymore. So her call did get under his skin. You try to think of a way you'd _ever_ be able to make it up to him.

"But, didn't you leave?" She sounds confused.

"Look out your window." She does. When she sees you, she snaps her phone shut and is gone. You hope you didn't scare her off. In the next minute, her front door is thrown open and she's in your arms. You don't know how, you don't know why, but you _honestly_ just don't care.

She gives you a look that says she'll let you explain. So you do, leaving out everything she knew, because you hate repeating yourself, even if it was for Hanna. "Jenna did give me money, but when we starting getting closer, I started giving her false information. I also told her to back off. But that girl will not take 'no' for an answer" – Hanna mumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, "You're telling me." But you ignore it and continue. "She kept bugging me, and I gave her more fake info." Hesitating for only a minute, you ask, "Did you get my letter?" And you hope she didn't. Because, if she did, she knew how you felt and still didn't come talk to you. And that would hurt and make this trip a complete waste.

"No. Mona threw it away before I could read it." If looks could kill, Mona would be six, no _ten_ feet under and Hanna would be behind bars, with you (and about five other people) claiming she's innocent "But I know what it said." You pull back a little, still holding onto her, and look at her, waiting for her to continue and tell you where she was going with it. She looks the ground and, then at you and says, "I love you, too."

You decide it's would be a good time to say something. Mumbling into her hair, you say what you didn't have the guts to tell her in person, "I love you." She laughs lightly, not in a rude, rejection way, but in a way that says she can't believe you're saying it again. And, in turn, she mumbles into your neck, again, "I love you, too."

You pull back again, tilt her head up, and kiss her. In that moment, outside her house, with who knows how many people watching, you know things are going to be alright.

Or so you can hope...

**A/N: So there was a little fluff at the end. Not enough to give someone a cavity, but there was some. And it was almost ruined by the last line. Next is going to be in A's P.O.V. And then this story. And since that chapter still needs to be typed, it should be up after my exams. I just found out my civics exam is on the 24th and 25th, so those days are out. I should have it posted after then.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: My finals are done and Friday was the last day of school (it's 12:04. Technically, it's been Saturday for 4 minutes). I had so much fun writing this chapter. I'm not usually mean, so it was… different to try and right in the POV of someone who is. I'm also not as demented, but that's a whole other story.**

**This chapter was kinda difficult to write, since in my last chapters I could give you clues as to who the chapter was about. But I couldn't in this chapter. I know who A is (I've read the books) but I don't want to ruin it for the people who don't.**

**Disclaimer: If only I owned it, then this wouldn't be necessary.**

It's disgusting. They're just so freaking _happy _to see each other. It's sickening. It's a get-a-cavity-from-watching sweet. And you hated it. But that's why you were there. She and those other liars didn't deserve happiness. And you were to make sure they didn't get it, at whatever cost.

And it was _fun_. The looks of horror as they read _your_ text, as they realize you know _their_ secrets, were just priceless. The looks made you _happy_. It was a sick happiness. But you didn't care. It was your hobby. After all, everyone needs a hobby.

Emily, Hanna, Aria, Spencer. _They _all have hobbies. Emily likes to swim and kiss her neighbors and swim rivals on the side. Aria likes to read and get "extra credit" from her English teacher. Spencer liked school, stealing her sister's boyfriends, and hanging out with suspects of murder. And Hanna. Hefty Hanna liked to look good, eat a little and stick her fingers down her throat. And let's not forget hiding juvenile delinquents in her basement.

You have all these secrets. And it wouldn't be fair if they didn't know you know them. It wouldn't be fair if the _rest_ of Rosewood, or better yet, the world, _didn't_ know them. That was another reason you were there. You had to expose them for what they _really _were. The world deserved to know

They were just standing there, _embracing_ (blech), and at different points talking. You couldn't here them, but you could read lips. Basement Boy was apologizing and Hefty Hanna seemed to be buying it. _Idiot_. They were so wrapped up in one another that they didn't notice their little audience leave.

You had to give props to Jenna Cavanaugh for thinking of that one. It was _genius_. Having Caleb spy on Hanna was so… _clever_. It gave you more to work with, more to hold over Hanna's head. And you wouldn't be you if you didn't.

Mrs. Marin not liking Caleb in the beginning was just _wonderful_. You had more to threaten her with, even though you already had enough. Like Mrs. Marin stealing money from an innocent, old, _dead_ woman. Or the night in the woods Caleb and Hefty Hanna had had. That alone was enough to get her shipped off to some boarding school thousands of miles away.

Of the four, Hanna _had _to be your favorite. Along with Emily, of course. But since she fell out of the closet, she was just no fun. Poor Hefty Hanna. Her dad didn't care about her. At least, that was what Hanna convinced herself of. You just made sure she didn't forget it.

She used to be fat and insecure. What a thing for you to play on. She was _bulimic_. That made it all the better for you, all the easier. Now she was transformed, but Hefty Hanna still lurked under the surface of all that perfection, and you are determined to bring her out.

Then, after her _ever-so_ wonderful transformation, she started dating Sean. You never liked him. He was good for Hanna, and you couldn't have that. If she hadn't messed it up for herself, you would've stepped in.

That was something you loved about Hanna. Her irrationality. She threw herself at Sean, only to be rejected (what an ego booster. You had more respect for him after that.) Then she committed Grand Theft Auto when she took Sean's car and totaled it. That was a good week for you, especially when Hefty Hanna had to actually _work_. That was something you wouldn't soon forget.

No matter how hard she tried, Hefty Hanna would still be a part of her, not only as her past, but as how her future would turn out. You play on that, her insecurities. It's sometimes _too_ easy.

Of course, you _did_ have to work. The only problem with messing with liars: they were good at hiding secrets. Some of those secrets took _forever_ to figure out. And you had to keep them from knowing who you _really _were, not just as "A."

You loved that initial. It hid your identity _and_ helped you torture four girls without getting caught. They were scared of it, _you_. And the fact that they thought, _hoped_, your texts were from _Alison_ made it all the better. Emily especially. She got a lovesick puppy dog look in her eye. But then she found out little Miss Perfect Alison DiLaurentis was dead. They were so crestfallen.

When your game first began, they weren't friends, and you had hoped you would've been able to keep it that way. But, somehow, they became friends again. This wasn't a problem, since that made it all the easier to mess with them. You had to send only one text and you could scare them all.

What was a problem, though, was your temper. If you hadn't have snapped, you wouldn't have hit Hanna. Not that you regretted it. She had it coming. No, you only regret that you could've gotten caught, and then everything you had worked for would be gone. Just. Like. That.

Caleb and Hanna finally went inside, which meant you could finally leave too. But not before you did something. Pulling out the prepaid cell you bought so many months ago, you punched in a few keys and started typing. After a minute, you hit **SEND**.

_And Hefty Hanna finally got her 'prince.' Newsflash, I didn't get a happy ending. And I'm not about to let you get one either. –A_

You smile. After all, never trust a pretty girl with an ugly secret.

**A/N: This story is finally done! I actually like writing as if I were a psychopath. Hmmm, that's not good. Lol. Oh well. I always knew I was crazy…**


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